Red Spattered The Snow
by Poxy Kirkman
Summary: When did they become too old to protect? Rated T for themes of death


A one shot. It's pretty dark, and it's sad, but yeah. Food for thought and all that :)

Enjoy?

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When did they become too old to protect?

Jack had pledged to protect children with his life, for as long as they believed in the Guardians. But he found that some circumstances forced children to grow up. Some children were made to forget because everything they had in their lives was too dark for the lights to shine through. Believing in the Guardians required innocence and unconditional belief... but sometimes these children, the younger generations, didn't have anything to believe in.

Half the time they didn't believe in themselves.

And as he stood on a cold, snow filled street, he watched as a girl of nineteen shoved through the crowds, sobbing her heart out and not caring who looked at her, because whatever grief she was feeling was too great for her to care any more. She must have felt like nobody cared, and even the people who turned to look at her seemed confused, but they carried on their way like nothing was wrong. It seemed wrong to him.

Why was it that when people reached a certain age, they were required to look after themselves? Why was it so important people pick themselves up and stick all the little pieces of their broken hearts together, when it was obviously impossible to do so. Girls like this were so broken that they couldn't even touch those broken pieces without feeling a fresh pain. Because looking at the bits of them that had fallen apart was too painful, and it only made them break a little more.

The white haired teen followed the crying girl down the street, soaring above the crowd until he reached her, landed beside her and walked alongside her, willing her to see him.

Her eyes were clouded with tears though, and she merely pressed on through the crowd. She was choking back sobs and sniffing slightly as she tried to hold back tears, but it was no use. He didn't know what had caused the pain she felt, but he wanted badly to stop it, to help her. And he couldn't.

He felt useless, he was only new to being a Guardian and hadn't yet worked out all the kinks of the job, but he generally knew how to cheer people up. There was the small fact that those people were children, and so many of them could see him. He had no idea how to help an adult. He'd promised to take care of people for as long as they believed in him, and he was fine with that. But what about girls like this? How could he help her when she so desperately needed someone to be there?

"Look at me," he pleaded quietly, reaching out to touch her arm, but he went through her and sighed slightly. He followed her up the street.

When did she become too old to help?

Maybe she'd had a hard childhood, and had to grow up to cope with it all. Maybe she was relied on too much. He wanted desperately to do something, wanted to hug her and tell her it would be okay, and whatever was making her cry now could be fixed or forgotten about. That he'd be there for as long as she needed him to be, and he'd help her pick up those pieces she needed to put herself back together.

"Listen, it'll be okay, I promise," he tried again, reaching out for her hand, and although his fingers went through hers, like he was nothing but a breath of air, he kept persisting.

But his words fell on deaf ears, and she continued down the street, her eyes looking about for something. And he saw the sadness there, and the anger. And even though there was such a mix of negative emotion expressed within her brown eyes, they were also void of something. A part of her seemed to be empty, and there was a vital piece of her gone. And without that she wasn't coping.

"I know you're hurting," he shouted, moving so he was in front of her, jogging backwards. "I know it feels like there's nobody and nothing, I've felt lonely too! But I dealt with it, you can too, I know you can!"

But she was looking right though him, and with a shudder he felt something completely negative course through him, something foreboding, and suddenly she had stopped, and he stopped in front of her, his bright blue eyes pleading with hers, although she couldn't see him, hear him or feel him there.

"You're not alone, kid. I'm here," he whispered, his hands resting lightly atop her shoulders. "I care."

But she still looked lonely. She still looked like a person who felt like nobody else in the world gave a damn about her. And he heard it before he thought to turn around and see it, and his heart stopped as the crying girl walked through him, into the road, and he barely had time to turn around and scream for her to stop before she'd walked into the path of the bus.

And red spattered the white snow...

And Jack stood there, unsure of what to do with himself, listening to the people around him screaming out in horror and yelling for people to come and help the girl who was already so far past saving.

He wondered why people only cared about one another when it was too late, when things had obviously got to the worst they could be, and why it took her killing herself for people to be bothered to see her pain.

Why could he only help children, when there were people of all ages all over the world who needed someone, anyone, to be there for them. He wanted to help her.

But she was too old.


End file.
